In My Hour of Need
by BananaLollypop
Summary: Sometimes, Jack finds his circumstances just a little too difficult to deal with. Ianto suspects that he really won't like how Jack copes with his dark thoughts. With his help, Ianto hopes that maybe Jack won't hate himself quite so much. (Warnings for suicide and suicidal thoughts. Expect Janto-ness. Torchwood isn't mine which is sad. R&R appreciated like things are appreciated)


**AN:** Honestly, this is about as far from my usual writing as it's possible to me. But I have a friend who's recently been very suicidal and... well, this popped into my head. I'm not entirely sure if it's very good and it's kind of very triggering for anyone who reacts to suicidal thoughts but I felt like I had to write it, if only to get a grip on my friend's situation. So, this is going to be a three-shot; this chapter focuses on Jack, the next will be Ianto and the last will be what I hope to be a suitable AU Janto origin. And I'm talking far too much so I'm just going to hush now so enjoy!

* * *

Jack stood at the edge of the roof, looking down at the ground twelve storeys below. He knew, from experience, that falling from this height meant certain death. He also knew that falling from this particular rooftop meant that his messed up Time-Vortex-Manipulated body would revive itself before anyone found him, if he chose the right time.

A time that just so happened to be getting dramatically closer as the seconds ticked past.

His eyes drifted shut, the cold breeze chilling his skin, making him feel slightly lost without the usual comfort of his big grey coat that Ianto had such a liking for. But it would do him little good to wear the coat now; he didn't want it getting dirty. Not only would it raise more questions from the team, it would be a terrible waste; he loved that coat too, after all.

Jack opened his eyes briefly to glance down at the watch on his wrist, noting how different it felt in comparison to his Vortex Manipulator. Even after so many times of standing in this exact spot, waiting for the moment when he could finally release some of the hatred he had built up inside him, the watch still felt different. Not wrong, per se, but... different.

And that was what Jack was, really. That was what surrounded him, what made him identifiable, what _defined_ him.

Because if there was one thing that Captain Jack Harkness wasn't, it was 'normal'. And that, if he were to choose a single thing, was what brought him to this spot. His hatred of being different, of not being able to die like everybody else, which seemed so wrong and unfair when he made himself aware of the danger he put his team in every day, was what made him want to defy his very anatomy, hoping that this time, maybe, just maybe, he'd manage to stay dead.

After twenty-two occurrences, seventeen of them identical to the one he was currently in, his wish still had not been granted.

Looking back up from the watch, he sighed, looking out over the quietest part of Cardiff he had been able to find, the nearest blinking lights at least a couple of miles away. The only sounds that he could hear were the breeze rustling the rubbish bags in the alleyway below him and his only blood, pounding in his ears, not in fear or worry, but excitement and anticipation.

He looked down to the ground below him, waiting, almost patiently, for the moment when his watch made the quiet beeping sound that he anticipated every month. He'd chosen the monthly intervals at which he let himself indulge in this act because it was so much easier to explain a period of depression once a month (tell someone your hormones are being a bitch and they'll happily leave you alone) than it was to explain why he disappeared for an entire night every few days. The last thing he wanted was for the team to find out. The last thing he wanted was for _anyone_ to find out.

Which was why he smiled when the sound came from his watch, that carefully timed and meticulously planned beep that meant that he could let his act fall, let his feelings take over and, for once, just let go.

With that thought comforting his constantly operating mind, Jack let himself fall, welcoming the darkness that the quickly rising ground would bring him.

* * *

**Bleugh. Was that bad? Kind of depressing... :/ I'm not good at writing this kind of stuff, can you tell? I think I'll go write something fluffy to put myself in a better mindset...**

**Review if you deem this worthy, favourite if you liked it and follow if you can't bear to see Jack in such a state and long to see Ianto come running to his rescue as his knight it shining armour. Thanks for reading!**


End file.
